Weight of the World
by Skande1
Summary: Legolas is a hurting young elven prince with the weight of his father’s judgment heavy on his shoulders. Estel seeks to befriend the lonely prince, who is closed off inside of himself in a place he considers safe.
1. I Walk Alone

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**Weight Of the World**

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**By** _The One And Only Skande_

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**Summary:** Legolas is a hurting young elven prince with the weight of his father's judgment heavy on his shoulders. Estel seeks to befriend the lonely prince, closed off inside of himself in a place he considers safe.

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**Prologue**

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The Mirkwood Forest Patrol was quiet, cloaked in a thick blanket of gloom as they entered the courtyard of Mirkwood Palace. A brisk autumn wind bustled along close to the ground, sending leaves of bright red and orange flying high in wild flurries of sudden color, sharply in contrast to the solemn faces and slumped shoulders of the elves among them. The woodland folk wore uniforms of earth-toned brown and green, and carried slender wooden longbows.

The leader of the patrol stood out almost instantly as the only one among them with pale golden hair, whipped around his shoulders in the cold breeze. His face was drawn and gaunt with weariness, yet he sat straight on his stallion, supporting the slumped, unconscious form of the elf he held before him. Two of the other elves behind him also held bodies of companions, but by the grey, empty look in their eyes it was painfully obvious that these souls had already passed the mortal shores.

By wordless consent, the silent company came to a slow halt near the middle of the empty stone courtyard, and most of the elves instantly dismounted to aid in helping those who did not by cause of the fallen companions they held. Others merely sat, still upon their horses, heads hung low in the grief they had formerly reserved.

Their captain waited for no aid in dismounting, put swung down swiftly and without preamble, pulling his fellow warrior down into his arms. He knelt carefully, laying his friend gently down on the cold cobblestones. Slowly, almost hesitatingly, as if afraid of looking for fear of what he might find, he reached towards the elf's pale neck, his hands steady in spite of his rushing heart as he felt for a pulse beneath his fingertips.

There was a tense moment of apprehensive silence, during which the other elves who had gathered around waited with baited breath, praying that they were not looking at the day's third casualty, but knowing deep inside that they were.

After a time, their captain's hand drew back, his face betraying nothing of his inner turmoil as he struggled with himself and his emotions, fighting hard to keep his war-battered façade of control firmly in place.

When he was sure he had control of himself, he stood quickly and resolutely, looking to his Lieutenant.

"Narion." He said softly, but formally. "Please see that the fallen are taken to the healing houses. I will report to the King, and return to see to their burial."

Narion, the sharp-faced warrior with black hair, nodded at his captain, his eyes deep with emotion. Both for his fallen friends, and the other's grief. He did not envy his captain's position, especially since he knew that the other elf must now step out of the role of grieving warrior, and back onto the pedestal of perfect elven prince: Poised, invincible, and emotionless.

But as Prince Legolas of Mirkwood strode away from his silent patrol and toward the looming steps of Mirkwood Palace, he felt anything but.

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**Chapter One:** _I Walk Alone_

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_I walk this empty street_

_Down the boulevard of broken dreams_

_Where the city sleeps_

_And I'm the only one_

_And I walk alone_

_My shadow's_

_The only one that walks beside me_

_My shadow heart's_

_The only thing that's faded_

_Sometimes I_

_Wish someone out there would find me_

_Till then_

_I walk alone_

_-Greenday_

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"_Three? Three, Legolas? How did this happen?" _His father's angry words still rang loudly in his ears as, almost four hours later, the elven prince fumbled for the door handle to his own room.

"_If you had followed your patrol's usual route, this never would have happened!"_

"_Perhaps not today father, but the wargs would have slaughtered everyone in that village, yielding many more casualties than we have witnessed today!"_

"_We are elves, Legolas! We do not sacrifice our own to save the worthless lives of mortals!"_

"_So we stand by, watching as innocents die when we could have helped? Because of us, no-one in that village was killed!"_

"_No-one?" Thranduil stepped close to Legolas, who had to force himself not to take a matching step back. "No-one? What of Amongil? Naras? Indor?" Each word struck Legolas' heart like a blow, and he was forced to swallow and take a deep breath to keep himself from showing emotion. "Now they are no-one to you?"_

_The words hurt, they hurt deeply, but he pushed it inside, to feel it later if feel it he must. He didn't answer the King._

Legolas found the door handle, and pulled it open, his movements lethargic and his body numb as he stumbled towards the bed. He found it, and let himself fall onto his back, eyes slipping shut almost instantly as he enjoyed the comfort of something soft, warm, and familiar at his back. This at least was steady, the sanctuary of his own room that was always there for him. Unchangeable. Immortal.

He was bone-weary, but that was not surprising since he had not slept in over a week, when they had altered course to save a human village from a pack of hunting wargs. It had been the right choice in his mind, but nothing short of perfection would ever be right in his father's.

Two elves had been killed in the fight, and another, Naras, had been wounded. No-one had really held out on the hope that he would survive until they got back to the palace, but it was still a deep blow for Legolas to know that another few hours might have saved his life. They had run low on food on the way back and cut down the rations, and Legolas had been secretly giving his own up to Naras, hoping it would make the difference between life and death for the elf he had fought with for so many years.

It had not.

The "report" to his father, however, which had been mainly his father berating him for his lack of judgment and strong leadership, was nothing compared to the emotional trial of giving his fallen warriors a proper burial. It had been _he_ who had gone to each of their families in turn, it had been _he_ who had crumbled inside just a little bit more as he tried to comfort wives and mothers and children, wailing in grief for the loss of their family member. And it had been_ he_ who had helped the male elves of each family dig the grave where another friend and fellow warrior would find an eternal resting place.

And it had been he, with the speaking of ever elvish prayer over every elvish grave, who had known that deep down inside, his foolish choices had been the result of the abrupt ending of an immortal life.

And now he lay, safe on his bed, just as every warrior he had seen to the Halls of Mandos should have been laying on their own. It was now, too weary to even open his eyes, hurting in every part of his body, mind, and soul, that the grief broke free. It came out in the form of silent tears that streamed down his face, every drop full of deep hurt and sorrow and shame, full of regret for lives that had ended, a time that had passed, and hearts that were broken. Tears that came from a hurting soul.

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Mirkwood forest was lush and green in the face of an approaching autumn, and birds and beasts alike roamed freely and without fear among their boughs. The road was safe and open due to the strict vigilance of the Greenwood Border Patrols, and the sun shown brightly down to pierce the canopy of thick foliage overhead.

Lord Elrond half-elven of Imladris, astride a tall chestnut stallion, sat with his eyes fixed on the road ahead, glazed and distant thought despite the mayhem around him.

The "mayhem" consisted of two horses and their elven riders in mounted chase of a third horse and its human companion. The three, all sons of Elrond, galloped madly back and forth along the road, laughing and shouting as they traded places after catching the human and began instead to chase one of the elven riders.

Estel, his 19 yr. old human foster-son, had said that human children called the game tag, but they did it on foot. Elrond didn't mind that they had modified the game for the journey to Mirkwood Palace, seeing as they were not now far from their destination and the horses were enjoying the game almost as much as their riders. He had become used to the noise, for one must when raising a young Edain and two fun-loving sons.

Estel, for one, had yet in his young life to see the amazing forest that men called Mirkwood, but that was not the reason the Elven Lord was here.

He was here to see Legolas, the young prince who he had befriended many years ago when the Sindarin elf had been in Imladris. The Prince had seemed strangely distant, pushing away prospective relationships with anyone he did not already know. Elrond had broken past the barrier the young elf had thrown up around himself, and had found a warm, complex personality hidden within a hurting soul, subconsciously afraid to trust because he was afraid of being hurt again, and starving inside for the love he did not know he was missing. Elrond had known all too well who was the cause of this, for King Thranduil, although a good King and Ruler, was straightforward and sometimes even downright cold when it came to relationships. Even though Legolas might not consciously realize it, Elrond knew that the elven Prince was afraid, more than anything else, that his father did not love him.

Elrond himself had known Thranduil well at one time, before the death of his wife, and had been somewhat surprised at how little the Prince was like his father, both physically and emotionally. They thought differently and felt differently, which, by Legolas' own hesitant words, often resulted in conflict.

The young elf had been on Elrond's mind almost constantly of late, and although he had no understanding of why this was, his heart told him it would be a good time to pay a visit to Mirkwood, or more correctly, to Thranduil and his lonely son.

He had allowed his sons to accompany him to Eryn Lasgalen only as an afterthought, for it was his hope they might find a friend in the Prince, and perhaps he in them.

_Valar knows he could do with a good friend or two…_ Elrond mused. He watched with disinterest as a line of three charging horses ripped by, failing to unsettle his own steed in the slightest, and mentally added, _or three._

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"Welcome to the Palace of Eryn Lasgalen, Lords of Rivendell."

A tall, brown-haired elf greeted the four travelers once they had reached and passed through the Palace gates. "The stable hands will take your horses." As predicted, the four horses were instantly whisked away by elven servants, and the tall elf led the company into the Palace.

"Elrond, my old friend!" Thranduil greeted with the closest thing to a smile that had passed his lips since the death of his wife, "It is good to see you!"

Elrond smiled back and embraced the other Elven Lord, arms clasped.

"And you have brought your sons?" Thranduil noted, glancing past Elrond, "It has been many years since I have seen them. How do you fare?" He nodded by way of acknowledgment.

Both twins nodded and murmured that they were well, thank you, but Estel, busy taking note of his surroundings, missed the question. It mattered little, for Thranduil ignored the human, thinking him but a servant.

"Come, join us for dinner, for 'tis but a half-hour till'." Thranduil offered, "We have much to speak of, so long has it been since last we met."

"Thank you, my friend." Elrond nodded, waiting for their host to lead the way, but Thranduil hesitated, looking past his old friend to the door.

"But where is Legolas?" The elven Lord finally asked his friend a moment later when his son did not appear.

"I know not, mellon-nin." Elrond spoke hesitantly, afraid to put Legolas in the elven King's ill will.

"Did not my son greet you when you arrived?" Thranduil's eyes flashed darkly.

"It matters not." Elrond smiled quickly, anxious to take Thranduil's mind off the subject. "Estel will go find him ask him to join us for dinner."

"Estel?" Thranduil repeated, confused.

"Forgive me my friend—" Elrond laughed. "It has been long indeed." He gestured to the human, now under scrutiny. "This is my foster-son, Estel of the Dunedain."

"Forgive me, Estel." Thranduil nodded politely. "I was not aware Elrond had a third son or I would have greeted you properly."

Estel nodded politely and murmured a thanks and acknowledgment. "I will find Legolas, Adar." He nodded to his father with a smile, inwardly eager to explore the Palace. It was huge even from the outside, and once in, he held no doubt that its halls must be a wonderful place.

"Thank you, young Estel." Thranduil nodded with a sigh. "Forgive my son's rudeness. He has yet to learn that as Prince, he must think of others before himself."

Estel wanted to frown at these words, but did not. He had heard good things about the Prince from his father, but he supposed everyone had their faults. He only smiled in return and bowed out of the conversation, before turning and heading off to find a Prince he had never met.

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**TBC…**

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**Well, hello again everybody! Yes, the crazy Skande is back with (gasp—) _another_ story? Yep. I am actually very interested to see how this one will turn out, but let me warn you: It will be moving very slowly. It's currently at the very bottom of my priority list. My horse was killed just recently and I'm still trying to recover from that. Lucky thing I've had this written up for several weeks now.**

**Originally I had this all planned out to be really more Medieval style than Middle Earth style, just because. So if some things seem a little off, it's because I had them that way and then changed them back because it really wasn't even that much different—Palace was castle, and so forth. No big deal.**

**Oh, okay, and let me get this straight right now: I am not a mean-Thranduil fan at all! I believe Thranduil was a great father and King. However—in this story it was convenient to have him be the antagonist. So no-one flame me—this will probably be the only mean-Thranduil story I ever write. Get it? Got it? Good. I mean, Legolas needs the angst and the angst needs Legolas: Anyway to get to that is good, right? Lol, alright: I'll let y'all get to your favorite little button down there in the corner! You know you want to!**

**Toodles y'all!**

**-Skande**


	2. Welcome To My Life

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**Chapter Two:** _Welcome to My Life_

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_Do you ever feel like breaking down?_

_Do you ever feel out of place,_

_Like some how you just don't belong,_

_And no one understands you?_

_Do you want to be somebody else?_

_Are you sick of feeling so left out?_

_Are you desperate to find something more,_

_Before your life is over?_

_Are you stuck inside a world you hate?_

_Are you sick of everyone around?_

_With the big fake smiles and stupid lies,_

_While deep inside you're bleeding?_

_No, you don't know what it's like,_

_When nothing feels alright,_

_You don't know what it's like,_

_To be like me:_

_To be hurt, to feel lost,_

_To be left out in the dark,_

_To be kicked, when you're down,_

_To feel like you've been pushed around,_

_To be on the edge of breaking down,_

_When no one's there to save you,_

_No you don't know what it's like_

_Welcome to my life._

_-Simple Plan_

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A quarter-hour later, Estel had discovered that the Palace of Eryn Lasgalen was indeed far more grand than even he had imagined, but although he was now probably due to return for the banquet that would be served in a mere fifteen minutes, he was loathe to return without the Prince, whom he had seen no trace of. Something told him that the King would be very angry if his son did not attend the meal, for reasons he could not fathom, and he did not wish to bring the King's wrath down upon anyone.

Finally, after some time of wandering aimlessly through the halls, he decided to search near the place where the twins said they usually stayed when they were in Mirkwood. Neither knew the Prince beyond bare formality, but he guessed the Royal chambers would not be far from the guest's. At least, that was how it was in Rivendell. Perhaps things were different in other elven realms.

Much different, it turned out. On his way to the guest chambers, he finally came across the first servant he had seen as of yet and asked the way to the Prince's room. The servant seemed dubious, but when Estel had assured the elf he was with Elrond of Rivendell, the servant had been more than willing to point him to the last door on the right three halls down. The elf bustled away again before Estel could ask him three-halls-down in which direction, leaving him to discover this on his own by simple power of elimination. The first direction he tried turned out to be a storeroom, but the second held what he was looking for.

The door to the last room on the hallway was half-open, and at first Estel was sure he was in the wrong place. He poked his head inside, about ready to pull back out and continue searching when he spotted the young elf lying on the bed, and stopped, frowning in confusion. The elf, who looked as if he could only be barely pushing the age of the twins, was still fully dressed, minus the weapons on the bed beside him. But it was his eyes, apparently shut that caught the human healer's attention. Elves slept with their eyes open, unless they were ill or exhausted to the point of collapse.

A frown creasing his brow, Estel hesitated only a moment before he entered the room and walked towards the bed. He had been correct; the elf's eyes were shut, but he was mostly struck by the sorrow on his pale face. The dried tracks of moisture down his cheeks told him that the prince had very likely fallen asleep weeping, but for what reason? It was something he could not fathom from the ethereal being he now beheld, but he almost instantly became self-conscious.

It was now, feeling very much as if he had just barged into something very private and personal, Estel hurriedly retreated to the open door. He stood, just outside of the threshold, and knocked softly.

However soft the intended sound, it startled the prince awake, causing him to bolt upright and begin to stand before he even realized where he was. He stopped then and swayed, taking a moment to regain his bearings as he blinked at the human in the doorway.

"Prince Legolas?' Estel proceeded cautiously.

"Yes?" Legolas stood fully, slowly coming to the door as he tried to dispel the lingering effects of his unintended rest.

"Forgive me," He murmured unnecessarily, seeming almost nervous to Estel's scrutinizing eyes, "I did not intend to fall asleep." When Estel did not explain himself, the elf cleared his throat and questioned him politely. "May I ask why you are here…?" He trailed off, leaving an obvious opening for Estel to explain why a human he had never seen before had shown up at his door.

"Perhaps you needed the rest." Estel said, ignoring the hint, studying the slightly shorter elf's face. "When is the last time you slept?"

Legolas blinked and gave the man an odd look, before brushing the question off somewhat curtly. "That is none of your concern. Did you wish to see me?"

"Yes, actually." Estel was not put off in the slightest. "I am Estel, and my foster-father, Lord Elrond Peredhil of Rivendell, requested that I seek you out and ask if you would care to come down to dinner, which should be served in a matter of minutes."

Legolas gave a mirthless, almost anxious laugh, blinking incredulously. "Well, I must truly _have_ needed the rest then, young Estel, for I was to meet you ere you arrived at the gates." He sucked in a deep breath, looking down as his shoulders dropped slightly, and Estel was struck at how quickly his mood had changed to match that of a man facing an impending doom. "But you have my great thanks, Estel, for now there will be one less reason for my father's displeasure."

Estel frowned again, about to question the elf's words, but he was waved off as if Legolas had only been talking aloud to himself. "I will be down right away. Thank you for awakening me."

Estel nodded, unconvinced, but took a step back anyway as the elf shut the door almost all the way. He waited for a long moment, staring at the space between the door itself and the wooden doorframe without hearing any kind of movement from within, and then made up his mind. Knowing it was impolite, but worried about the blonde elf, Estel pressed his eye to the crack in the door. The elven prince sat on the bed with eyes tightly shut and his head cradled in his hands almost gingerly, as if it were glass to be easily shattered.

Estel backed away, torn, realizing the elf was hiding something but unsure what to do about it. As ever, he quickly gave back into his impulsive human nature and resumed his half-kneeling stance before the door.

The elf had stood now, moving slowly to a closet and fumbling inside for a clean tunic. He found a light blue one and pulled it out unceremoniously, stripping of the dirty grey one he had worn and quickly replacing it. In that brief moment, Estel caught a full glimpse of the elf's lithe, well-muscled torso, and something else that he did not like. A large, ugly bruise decorated most of the elf's upper stomach and chest, ugly red marks signaling at least several cracked if not broken ribs.

Confused, he backed away once more to stand beside the doorway, wondering why Thranduil was going to make his son come down to dinner wounded, and why the injury had not been tended. And if Thranduil did not know, and the elven prince was hiding the injury, then why?

None of it made any sense to him, but the longer he was in Mirkwood, the more interested he became in the Elven King and his mysterious son.

Sighing, Estel folded his hands and leant against the wall, waiting patiently for the Prince to emerge as he mulled over what he had learned so far about the blonde elf. It wasn't long before the door opened soundlessly and Legolas stepped out, pulling it shut behind him and straightening his tunic.

"You need not have waited, Estel." He said quietly without turning around.

"'tis nothing." Estel shrugged, although he knew the Prince had not been thanking him. "I am not quite certain I could have made it back on my own in any case—this place is larger than anywhere I have ever been."

Legolas smiled lightly as they walked down the corridor. "Aye—as a child I often lost myself in its halls. When my mother came to find me, I would insist that I had known exactly where I was."

Legolas' eyes were strangely distant as he spoke, and Estel glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as the elf ran a hand over his face, his long fingers trembling with lingering weariness.

Estel took half-a-step forward, alarmed at the elf's actions. "Are you well? Perhaps you should not come down after all—"

"No, no." That thought seemed to unsettle the elf, making Estel even more suspicious. "I do not wish to anger my father further."

Taking a shot in the dark, Estel tried a question he hoped would catch the elf off guard. "Why will your father be angry with you?"

It didn't exactly catch the elven prince off guard, but he did hesitate. "He has his reasons." The elf said almost defensively, leaving no doubt that that was the end of what he was willing to say.

Estel had never been one to heed warnings. "Reasons…?"

Irritation flashed through the elf's crystal-blue eyes, but it quickly fled as he answered curtly. "In aiding a human village under threat of wargs, three of my warriors were felled this day. That is a loss I cannot so easily amend with words. Thus, my father is angered with me."

"For helping people?" Estel confirmed, shocked.

"Welcome to _my_ life, _Edain_." Legolas muttered quietly, eyes on the floor.

Both fell into thought as they walked, Legolas of the lives lost, and Estel of the Prince. He was usually curious about everything, but the Elven Prince had him unusually intrigued. It was obvious he and his father clashed, but why? And why was Thranduil so cold towards his son?

Presently, his attention was drawn outwards once more as he became aware of a strange, echoing howl in the corridors around them. "What is that sound?" He finally questioned, frowning as he glanced about.

"Aedril and Huor…" Legolas shook his head in amusement, and Estel shot him a questioning look.

"My pets." Legolas expounded, "Aedril is a ferret I adopted from a human huntsman some time ago, and Huor a hunting hound. My father hates them both, but does not complain as long as I keep them out of range of hearing."

Estel smiled, amused at the thought of two animals locked in unending pursuit of each other around the Palace. "And you need not stop them?" He questioned as the hound again began to bay after a short pause.

Legolas shook his head smilingly. "Why? They would only start again as soon as I turn around."

"Well that's true." Estel agreed with a smile, unable to find a flaw in the same logic he often applied himself back in Imladris. The sounds stopped for a time, and then Estel could just make out the thuds of tiny paws against the carpet in the hallway ahead.

The next moment, a tiny ferret zipped around the hall corner at top speed, and Estel careened backwards just in time to avoid stepping on the animal. Legolas, in turn stumbled backwards to avoid the unsteady human, just as the ferret ran underneath the Prince' feet.

Legolas lost his footing and fell to the ground, causing Estel to teeter to avoid falling on top of him. It was at this unfortunate moment that a huge, baying hunting hound bounded around the corner in hot pursuit of the ferret, ramming straight into the unbalanced human's knees.

Estel fell hard, his shoulder slamming into the Prince's chest. Legolas gasped as the air was knocked painfully out of his already burning lungs, his damaged ribs screaming at the force of the blow, and Estel quickly rolled off of him, alarmed.

"Legolas!" The human gasped, spinning towards the elf. The Prince had turned deathly white, and one arm was wrapped around his chest, heaving for breath. Estel scrambled back over to the Prince, eyes wide as he gripped the elf's upper arm. "Legolas are you alright?" He repeated anxiously.

Worried when the elf couldn't find the breath to answer, Estel stood and tried to help the elf to his feet. As soon as Legolas was standing he pushed the human away, leaning heavily against the wall and continuing to fight for air.

Legolas, you are hurt—" Estel tried, concerned, but was instantly cut off.

"It's nothing!" The elf gasped, panting in exertion.

"Nothing?" Estel scoffed somewhat boldly, seeing as he was the guest in the other's realm, "That is nothing? What is something, then? A missing limb?"

"You will say… nothing… of this!" Legolas ground out by way of answer, glaring daggers at the man.

"Forgive me." Estel sighed, changing tactics. "At least let me give you something for the pain—"

"Do not bother." Legolas said curtly, brushing unsteadily past him. Estel frowned, but hurried to catch up.

"Oh?" He returned, matching strides with the elf, who was still breathing heavily and had both arms curled around his ribcage, "And why ever not?"

"I will be leaving on patrol once more this evening, and medicine will dull my senses, causing me to endanger many more lives than my own." The elf returned matter-of-factly, jaw muscles tightened in pain and irritation.

"Patrol?" Estel repeated with a frown, ignoring the subtle warning in the elven prince's tone. "_Again_? Why? You just returned, and it is plain you are exhausted."

"That has nothing to do with it, _human_." Legolas all but growled, darkly flashing eyes signaling the nearing end of his patience. "I was to meet your party at the gates. I was to be to dinner on time. I was to return from my last patrol with all those under me alive and well. Since it seems I am incapable of any of those things, I will be punished, and my father will send me back out on patrol. Satisfied?"

Estel was not satisfied, but it was truthfully not the best time to continue the argument, since they now stood before the side door that led into the banquet hall.

Legolas took a deep breath and straightened his back, carefully smoothing out his tunic and hair. Estel self-consciously did the same, before stepping forward to follow the Prince as the elf brushed aside the hanging curtain and walked into the hall.

The servants were only just placing the first dishes on the long wooden table, causing Estel great relief that they were not as late as he had thought. One glance at Thranduil's dark face however, told him the Prince was late enough, at least for the predicted punishment.

"Ah, Legolas." Thranduil said coolly. "So kind of you to grace us with your presence at long last. Where have you been hiding?"

Legolas flinched ever so slightly at the words, but his face remained otherwise blank and impassive as he took a seat on one side of the table to the King's right. He did not answer immediately, as if trying to come up with something that would not upset the King further.

There was an empty seat across from the Prince, and Estel moved toward it, but Elrond subtly motioned him to take a different seat. Although curious, Estel passed it and went to sit beside Elrohir, who was fighting hard not to start snickering.

"Forgive me, your majesty," Estel smilingly answered for Legolas as he sat, "for the fault lies in me. I was clumsy and fell down a stairwell, wasting time."

Legolas shot the human a puzzled, incredulous look, but quickly banished it as his father glanced at him sharply.

"It is of no consequence, Estel." Thranduil smiled back at the human almost pleasantly, "I am sure he would have found a way to arrive late in any case."

Legolas cast his eyes down briefly in shame, and Estel was shocked at how cruel Thranduil was being to his own son.

Elladan and Elrohir were both concentrating intently on their food, and Elrond wore a polite mask smoothed over his own features, although Estel could see a spark of disappointment and disapproval flashing in the depths of his eyes. Towards Thranduil, Estel knew, and not towards the elven king's son, although as Legolas glanced apprehensively at the Quenyan Lord, the human realized that the Prince would probably not be able to tell the difference.

Legolas' eyes quickly flew back to his own plate, as if he saw some rare thing of interest there.

"Legolas…" Thranduil scolded mildly, "Are you not even going to greet our guests?"

Face flushed in embarrassment and another unreadable emotion that Estel could only pin as fear, Legolas quickly stood and bowed to all four guests in turn. "Welcome to Mirkwood, Lords of Imladris." He murmured as if he were reciting a line from a scroll, "I hope you can forgive my rudeness in being unable to meet you upon your arrival."

Elrond nodded and smiled compassionately, and Legolas resumed his seat as soon as possible, seeming to Estel even paler than ever. Frowning, the young human returned his eyes to his food, thinking that things had just become a bit more interesting.

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**TBC…**

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**Well, now the angst is kicking in, lol!**

**Thank you ALL for such wonderful reviews and encouragement! This update is for you. And yes it is about time the twins got in there—they're coming, trust me! I hope you will not be disappointed!**

**Also, thanks to all of you who expressed sympathy concerning the death of my horse. It isn't an easy thing to get over, but life is going to move on, and I will see him in heaven someday! So things truly aren't all that bad. -) **

**Toodles Y'all!**

**-Skande**

**P.S. Barbara Kennedy: Sorry, forgot about your question: Sure I'll check out your story! Maybe I'll have time to drop a review even, but I can't promise regularly doing so! Thanks for asking! Take care!**

**P.P.S. –sigh- I knew I was forgetting something… I will TRY—try, mind yoou—to have Grey Ship updated before the end of the month! No promises, so don't mob me-runs- ;-)**

**And, for the last time: (Promise!)**

**Toodles!**

**-Skande**


	3. Cry On My Shoulder

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**Chapter Three:** _Cry On My Shoulder_

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_You say you're falling apart_

_Reached the end of the line_

_Just looking for your place in an ordinary life_

_No one calls you friend_

_No one even knows your name_

_You just want to feel loved instead of all the pain_

_You have had some hard times_

_Had thorns placed in your side_

_I know about what you've been going through_

_Tears of pain are falling down_

_It hurts so bad you're crying out_

_You're problems won't last forever_

_Let me put you back together_

_You no longer have to say_

_No one's listening anyway_

_Come here and cry on my shoulder_

_I'll hold you 'till it's over_

_I'll rescue you tonight_

_Let my arms be your shelter_

_Your hiding place forever_

_I'll love you more than life_

_-Overflow_

-x-x-x-

Although famished, Legolas found that every bite caused agony to his now throbbing chest, and so contented himself with sipping slowly at the goblet of wine by his plate. He prayed to the Valar that by some smile of fate his Father would choose not to send him out on patrol that night, but wait until the Lord's of Rivendell had departed. He knew his body dearly needed time to recover from the stress it had been subjected to so ruthlessly for weeks, and he feared that, despite what he had told the young human, going out into the forest so weak might endanger just as many lives as if he had accepted the offered medicine. Although he hated to admit it, thanks to Aedril and Huor, what had been at first a nagging pain in his chest had blossomed into full-blown agony and he would have welcomed any kind of relief at that moment.

He chanced a brief glance up at the human who sat across the table, unnerved when their eyes met. At first he had seemed kind enough, and Legolas had even caught himself opening up to the human as he had not opened up to anyone since he had met Lord Elrond so many years ago. Once he had realized what he was doing he had pulled back inside himself, somewhat embarrassed. He didn't believe he had spoken as much in the entire last week as he had when he had spoken with the human in the hallway earlier on. It made him uneasy, especially when he found the human's eyes on him every time he looked up. He saw not the anger or disapproval he was accustomed to from his father, but only worry and compassion, which was in itself enough to irritate him. He wanted no pity from a mortal, whether he was the adopted son of Elrond or no.

Speaking of whom, Lord Elrond was also watching him closely, the added pressure making Legolas fight the urge to squirm in his seat. He hadn't thought his discomfort so outwardly apparent, but something must be showing to merit so much attention. As such, he redoubled his efforts at seeming normal, despite the almost incapacitating pain radiating from his chest. He hadn't thought it was so bad when he had first received the wound—direct result of an 800 pound Warg leaping onto his chest from the roof of a building—but it was quickly proving him wrong. Although it burned his pride, maybe—just maybe—he would go to Lord Elrond later on and ask for the pain medication he had refused from the human.

_If _his father did not send him back on patrol.

Asking his already on-edge body to trust a mortal he hardly knew was one thing, but he trusted Lord Elrond with his life—probably, if it came down to it, more then he trusted himself. He knew, or at least hoped, that the elven Lord would understand that.

-x-x-x-

Little did Legolas know, however, just how much the elven Lord understood. At that moment, Elrond knew exactly what had happened and what Legolas expected to happen. Thranduil had already told him in no uncertain terms that Legolas' brash decisions had caused the loss of the lives of three elven warriors already, and he was going to send him out on patrol later that evening once more.

Frowning, Elrond studied the Prince, unable to put his finger on exactly what he felt radiating from his bowed head and slumped shoulders. As usual, and much to his discouragement, he felt pain, but he could not tell whether it be emotional, physical, or a mixture of both.

He turned his searching gaze to his human son, trying to read what he saw there. He could tell that Estel, ever-faithful to his curious human heritage, was already intrigued with the mysterious prince and the web of hurt and secrets that seemed to surround him.

_What is wrong with him, Estel?_

Estel physically started in his seat as his Foster Father's voice entered his mind. He quickly flushed as his Elladan and Elrohir snickered, but he had heard the Noldor Lord. Elrond was one of the few elves still remaining in Middle Earth who could instill such a connection. Estel had learned about it when he was younger, and, fascinated, he had asked the older elf if he could speak to him in his mind. Elrond smiled and said that he could, but only if Elrond first established the connection. They had only done it a few times, and the young human still wasn't used to it, but he worked hard to answer.

_He's hurt, Ada._ He thought back with some difficulty, _don't let Thranduil send him back out._

_I will not, ion-nin. _Elrond returned firmly, _I will not. But where is he hurt, and how bad is it?_ Elrond didn't wish to cause his adopted human son further difficulty by complicating the required answer more than he had to, but he needed to know these things at the moment there was only one who could answer them.

_His chest…_ The human returned. _It looks like he was hit by something heavy, and I think he may have some broken ribs. _Elrond inwardly winced at this. _It's not too bad, but it looks painful._

_Fear not Estel. He will not be leaving the palace anytime soon if I have anything to say about it, and I will, if he allows, treat him later. _Breaking the connection without skipping a beat, Elrond answered a question from Thranduil's direction with grace and ease that hinted at nothing of what had just transpired between he and the young human.

"So…" Estel's attention was deflected as Elladan tried to strike up a conversation with the reclusive prince. "Do you… Have a lot to do here in Mirkwood?" He finished rather lamely, causing his twin to choke slightly on his food.

Estel shot a warning look at Elrohir. Elladan could do with a little more tact sometimes, but he was at least making an effort to reach out to Legolas, which was more than could be said for his twin.

Legolas, for his part, stiffened a little when addressed, but merely looked confused when he grasped the question. "In what way, my lord?" He returned politely, "As far as duties, or economics…?" He trailed off, leaving Elladan to fill in the gap, although it was Elrohir who did.

"He means recreation." The youngest twin piped in mirthfully.

Legolas' brow furrowed in thought as he set down his glass, leaving Estel with the feeling that he probably didn't do much for recreation.

"And what makes you assume that, Elrohir?" Elladan retorted. "Although you couldn't keep your mind on anything serious for more than half a moment, the same is not necessarily true for me."

Estel came to the rescue, adding his own piece to the discussion before Elrohir could retort. With the twins around, things could easily get out of hand, and he didn't think they realized who would very likely get the blame if anything went awry. "What my brother means, Prince, is if there will be time on the morrow for exploring this grand forest."

Looking a bit flustered by the multiple sources of input from the three siblings, all of whom radiated a constant aura of mischief that left him in doubt of the seriousness of their questions, Legolas answered with guarded hesitance, while still maintaining his air of respectful formality. "There will, since the Palace perimeter is kept well secured by the Guard, but I would not advise straying beyond the walls without an armed escort familiar with the woods."

Having found a source of common ground, the elves and human from Rivendell kept up a steady stream of questions, with Estel, for once, being the mediator whenever the twins threatened to get into a verbal fistfight. So passed the next half-hour, after which servants came to whisk platters and goblets from the table, and Elrond and Thranduil sojourned to Thranduil's study to talk. Estel hoped his foster-father would not waste time in addressing the matter of Legolas' departure. Now that they had the elf talking, he seemed a bit more at ease. He was obviously not used to the way siblings interacted, and sometimes seemed unsure of whether or not they were joking, or in true earnest.

After a time of this, Legolas was rescued when a servant appeared, asking the brothers if they would spare the Prince, since Elrond had requested to see him in his quarters. Legolas willingly complied, a little overwhelmed by the twins and their human brother, who usually received the brunt of their jokes and jabs.

"My Lord." He bowed when he was admitted to the Elven healer's room.

"Legolas—" Elrond returned with a smile. "I trust my sons did not prove overmuch for you to handle."

The Elven lord laughed when Legolas hesitated in his answer. "Their ways are certainly beyond my comprehension." The Mirkwood Prince smiled hesitantly, searching for respectful words with which to phrase his thoughts. "I was simply confused by their… sense of humor."

Elrond shook his head in amusement. "Aye, you are not the first. And they are not the most tight-lipped, to warn you, but most of their complaining is in jest only. They complained about sharing a room as youngsters. Now that they are older and have their own rooms, but still need something to complain about, they complain about sharing the same hallway."

Legolas smiled, this one reaching nearly to his eyes, but not quite, which did not escape the Elven Lord's notice.

"But you do not need me to tell you that, I am sure…" He cocked one eyebrow at the quiet elf, before getting to the point. "But now… How are you Tithen-pen?" He asked quietly.

Legolas gave him an unconvincing half-smile and a shrug, but he needed to give no audible answer. The Elven Lord already knew.

Moving forward, the healer wrapped the young Prince in a warm embrace without further words, and Legolas sighed deeply into his shoulder, relaxing momentarily. It made him feel childish, but there was something comforting in the accepting hug that made him wish he never had to leave. Sometimes, when Lord Elrond embraced him, he would have a flashing memory of his father doing the same, many, many years ago, but it was quickly gone, leaving him to wonder if it had even really come. His father hadn't so much as touched him since he had come of age, and then it had been only to place the crown on his head during the ceremony.

"Legolas?" The younger elf was brought sharply back to the present when he realized it was the second time Elrond had addressed him, holding him out by the shoulders as his brow furrowed in concern.

"Forgive me—" He rejoined quickly, embarrassed. "I—I wondered, if you would allow me to make a request of you?"

"Of course, Legolas." Was the firm reply.

"My lord," He kept his eyes on the ground. "If I may..."

"Yes?"

"If I may request of you… that is, I know you have great knowledge of healing, and—if you know of a herb that I might…"

Elrond paused and frowned slightly, pretending to be ignorant of the Prince's situation. "Are you wounded?" He wasn't trying to be cruel—he only wanted to see how far Legolas' trust in him went, although he felt rather guilty for doing it in such a way.

Legolas flushed violently and ducked his head, unable to answer. He was disgusted with his own foolish weakness, and wished nothing more than to snatch back his words and dart from the room. His voice was barely audible even to Elrond's keen hearing as he murmured a reply. "Yes M'lord."

"Legolas…" Elrond smiled kindly, lifting the young elf's chin with two fingers. "There is no shame in pain. And you need not address me so formally."

The younger elf managed a gratefull half-smile, but offered no verbal response. Elrond gestured to the bed. "Here—lie down and I will treat you myself. From what Estel has told me, you were at the receiving end of a Warg, most likely?"

"Yes my lord…" Legolas returned, surprised. "But I don't think you should—I—my father would—"

Peace young one." Elrond interjected with amusement. "I don't think your father wants you going about wounded, whatever else he may say. It is no trouble."

"Very well… Thank you, m'lord." At Elrond's prompting, Legolas reluctantly laid down, causing the healer to wonder just what kind of hold Thranduil had on his son, that he would be so obviously anxious even when his father was not in the room.

"Wait here. I will return soon." When Elrond did return with herbs and bandages, Legolas was exactly where he had been, one forearm laid heavily across his eyes.

"Ion-nin?" Elrond questioned gently, not wishing to startle the young elf.

Legolas, not moving, smiled slightly, but his words were soft and slightly amused. "I'm not your son."

Elrond smiled in turn as he ground several plants into a bowl. "And yet I consider you such, as I hope you still consider me another father."

Legolas' ebbing half-smile returned momentarily with a soft chuckle. "I wish—" He began wistfully, temporarily forgetting himself, and then flushed, cutting himself off and looking abruptly away.

"Tithen-pen? What do you wish?" Elrond prompted gently, pausing in his work.

Legolas' eyes darted back to the healer's face, and then away once more.

"Legolas?"

A whisper came at last, soft and self-conscious. "I wish… that—that _you_ were my father."

Elrond's heart wrenched, at that soft admission, but he had no words with which to answer such a statement. What should—what _could_ he say to something like that? Even if he had found words, he was not sure he could have spoken them past the sudden lump in his throat.

"I—forgive me M'lord, I should not have said that…" Legolas stuttered, mistaking the Elven Lord's silence. "I have no right to—"

"You have every right Legolas," Elrond admonished soothingly. "But you should not have a reason."

There was a short stretch of silence as the Noldor elf spread a thin layer of paste over the bruise on the Prince's chest. The cool salve made an immense difference, and Legolas sighed and relaxed almost immediately. To look at the Prince, you might not notice his constant tension until you saw it leave him, and then the difference was drastic.

"I spoke to your father, Legolas." Elrond offered at last, receiving no response. "Despite his words to you, he was actually in one of his better moods, and it did not take much prodding to convince him to allow you to rest here at the Palace until we leave."

Legolas' eyes shot open in shock. "M'lord!" He reverted to formal speech in his surprise. "He, he—I..."

"Peace young one." Elrond hushed. "He knows it was entirely my own idea. I told him it was a shame that my sons would have no-one to show them the forest during their stay, and from there suggested yourself. I hope you do not mind…?"

"Mind?" Legolas' eyes shone. "My lord, I dreaded leaving tomorrow. I—I don't know how I can repay you."

Elrond smiled warmly. "You can start by leaving off the "My Lord" part. Valar know I hear enough of that from strangers."

"I shall try my best, Lord Elrond." Legolas hastily adjusted his phraseology.

"That is all I ask." Elrond returned lightly.

-x-x-x-

Well, after an extended leave of absence I am back, but only to announce that this is going to be the last chapter I post of this story! BUT—before I make someone angry, I would love it if someone wants to continue it for me! So, if anyone's interested in that, just e-mail me at thanks to:

**Enigma Jade**—I know, I know! I'm trying to update more often- (racks head for a new excuse) :-) Thanks for the review!

**Outspoken Christian**—Love your name! Thanks for the review!

**bluberryDreamer**—Lol, glad to know my fics can keep people sane! Here's one for you!

**Raspberry**—Well, then, thanks for the compliment! ;-) And the review!

**Elwen**—Hey there! Good to know I didn't over-do it—I always wondered if I could pull it off, but I decided to be just as realistic as possible, since in this story the Thranduil/Legolas relationship is kind of like it is with me and my Dad. And as or myself--I've never been better! Thanks a million for the review; hope to see you around!

**Le Chapelier fou**—well, I'm glad my story is an exception! And you're right, I don't like mean Thranduil stories either, so I'm trying to keep this one from being the same—he's not so much mean as he doesn't understand…. If that makes any sense, lol! Thanks for the review!

**Deana**—Sheesh! Are you ever _not_ on Every time I update you're the very first to review! (lucky…!) Lol, thanks for the review, and for being such a pest! ;-) (A good kind of pest!)

As well as:

**ElenweMorewen**

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**yllom21**

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**Masterarcher**

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…..and everyone else who stuck through this story—you just might see the end of it!

Toodles y'all!

-Skande

-x-x-x-


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